That’s a crazy human question,
And I guess I ought to say,
Cultures just ain’t everlasting,
Laws can change from day to day.
And I’d quess I’d have to say
When I look back,
That it ain’t too easy
Even to keep track.

That’s a true song. I was listening in at a University, one time, and a student asked a Lecturer whether it's true that there’s nothing that’s illegal in one culture that hasn’t been legally enjoined upon the population of another. The guy she asked was a Criminologist and he thought for a long few minutes before he told her that blasphemy and treason were always illegal, but everything else that’s been banned in one culture has been enforced in another.

He was almost right, but if she wanted a more accurate answer she should have asked a historian – or a real old demon. There’s been cultures that downright encouraged blasphemy.

I guess that, for humans, it’s okay to break the law when the consequences of keeping within the law are worse than the consequences of breaking it; when you’ll starve without that stolen loaf. Take care, though, the law is usually rougher on the poor who steal from hunger than on the rich who steal from greed. I guess it’s always okay if you can get away with it - if the law won’t hunt you down or your conscience give you a real hot number over whatever you’ve done.

"Sweet" the singing demon

Fandom, BTVS

Words, 243

Something that won't be discovered for at least 2000 years!

I sing as easily as I talk,
And dance as easily as I walk.
In theory my Gigs can be sung
In every place and every tongue.
(In practice, I might just admit
That ain’t the easiest part of it.)

Words are my talent, you’ll agree
I have a wide vocabulary?
But accents, dialects and such,
And jargon – humans add too much!
A language should be growing, live
But you add slang and all that jive!

Communications syncopated,
Shouldn’t be too complicated
Some songs are sophisticated,
Some tunes turn out addle-pated,
One Queen was emancipated
Gig was as anticipated
Hell, she wasn’t educated
but that can be over-rated,
Accents are comunicated,
And my talent's just as stated.

I guess the real answer is that I can listen in most languages and even write in some, but the way I speak them is going to depend on who I’ve been hanging around with. It the Queen’s got an accent I can pick it up quite fast – and lose it, eventually, when things change.

Muse "Sweet" the singing demon,
Fandom, BTVS
Words, 169

Funeral Plans?

How should I know that? I won't be there!
If I'm the corpse, then how can I care?
I got no plans for this anytime soon.
Have you a prophecy? Show me the rune.

I been around for a helluva time,
Hearing the music and adding the rhyme.
Nothing's for always and even iron rusts,
Planets have ended in novas and dusts.

I'll tell you true as an operative could,
Sometimes a Gig doesn't end as it should.
Sometimes the show has a different last act.
Sometimes an operative doesn't come back.

If I don't dance to the end of the show,
Those who might grieve - why, they ain't gonna know.
One day the dark takes the last of the song.
When there’s no show then they’ll know that I’m gone.

There’ll be the last act, the last curtain falls.
That one last time there’ll be no curtain calls.

Muse; “Sweet” the singing demon,
Fandom; BTVS
Words, 150

I never was crazy on zombies. I remember when Wolfram and Hart tried to hire me for a Gig over in L.A. They offered to supply a zombie chorus line. (The shtick there is that their staff don’t have no, “until death do us part” clause in their contracts. They can die on the job, but they can’t just lie down and quit. I guess there are worse things than having to marry whoever picks up my talisman and starts chanting the right tune, after all.)

I turned them down flat. There ain’t no way I’m working with zombies. Most of them can’t sing worth a damn. They can’t dance, either; if they do a high kick or even a quick tap step their legs drop off. The only good thing about them is that the mummified ones burn real easy, but the customers need working glands and so on to build up a real head of emotion and zombies sure as Hell don’t have that.

So, what I’d do in the case of a zombie apocalypse is smoke right on out of there and listen to the witness arias later. Much later - maybe decades.

Muse; “Sweet” the singing demon,
Fandom; BTVS
Words, 196

Schadenfreude? That's entertainment!

My Gigs,
are the kind of show,
That leave some,
With a very warm glow,
And I say,
As I bop on my way –
That’s entertainment!

A heart,
may be broke at the start,
Set to heal?
That depends what they feel,
And I say, as I swing on way,
That’s entertainment!

The ending may be set
For nobody’s child,
It may be romantic,
Or rather too mild,
The whole thing could just go wild,
When a song starts out joking,
But ends up hot and smoking!

They may,
start with fury and ire,
Or they may,
sing of who they admire.
In the end,
someone walks through the fire!

The world is my Gig,
My Gigs are a world of entertainment!

The Gig’s are my shtick and they’re really enjoyed,
Or else I might be just a little annoyed!
Who wants to rhyme Schadenfreude?
That just don’t sound appealing,
Though I sure know the feeling.

Happy ending’s
The rule for the day
Though I do
like a firework display,
and I sing,
as I dance on my way,
The world is my Gig!
My Gigs are a world
Of entertainment!

Muse; “Sweet” the singing demon.
Fandom, BTVS,
Words, 191

Everyone says that they’re watching the watchmen,
I gotta say that ain’t my style at all.
Policemen can sing just like anyone passing,
I tend to listen – that can be a ball.

For instance -

When a policeman’s out engaged in his employment,
(his employment)
And proceeding down the south side of street,
He may gain some quite professional enjoyment,
By checking out the people he may meet.
He may have spent the night before out drinking.
He’s maybe got some lager in a can,
But in my Gigs he’ll sing just what he’s thinking,
In just the way of any other man…
(any man)
When a Gig is on the go and brewing fun,
(brewing fun)
A policeman’s lot can be a tuneful one.

He may sing about a burglar’s white-haired mother,
(white-haired mother)
And how he had to take her off to jail.
He may sing about a sister or a brother,
(Or a brother)
And hope they’ll soon be coming out on bail.
When a burglar’s finished fencing off his takings,
He’ll maybe light a candle at the church,
But the policeman never puts aside his duty,
And may feel virtue’s left him in the lurch,
(in the lurch,)
After years of seeing crime that ain’t no joke,
(ain’t no joke.)
A policeman can lose track of honest folk.
(Honest folk.)

As he walks the beat his eyes may stray a little,
(stray a little)
If he sees a girl he thinks is quite a looker.
But the job can really make his feelings brittle,
If he knows the rap sheet says that she’s a hooker!
There’s the sweet kid who is shoplifting for lipsticks,
The addict who is panting with the pangs,
And if his beat is walking on a Hellmouth,
The girl may have a lovely pair of … fangs!
(Pair of fangs!)

After years of working as a harness bull,
(harness bull.)
A policeman’s job can make him cynical.
(Cynical!)

Muse, “Sweet” the singing demon.
Fandom, BtVS
Words, 326

They ain’t pets! I’ve sometimes had to explain that to my own kind, but why would humans think they are?

Okay, they meet some of the definitions. Some of them are creatures from an inferior species – or if they ain’t you’d never know it. Some of them can’t communicate with me worth a damn.

I knew one girl who was into keeping pets and she taught me a word - a “rescue” pet. She rescued strays, so she sang. Well, okay, some of them are rescues. I guess you might say some of them are pedigree. Some are real fancy, some come from working lines; some were bred for sale, or they might as well have been. One or two have been real wild.

As for whether I’d want more, that ain’t up to me. If you’ve read this journal much you'll know the deal.

Get the talisman,
Then invoke me in rhyme.
There’ll be dancing and singing
And maybe a real hot time …

I guess you know the rest. Me, I just work with what’s there – another day, another Gig.

Muse, Sweet the Singing Demon.

Fandom, BTVS

Words, 180.

People who think they can outsmart demons are usually riding for a fall.

( more )

Muse; “Sweet” the singing demon.
Fandom, BTVS.
Words, 448.

A song from halfway through a Gig? The old demon was spoiled for choice! So many years, so many tunes – in the end he went to sleep while he was thinking about it, and, of course, he dreamed.

It’d been a Gig in some rural place in one of the Celtic countries. None of the Team could find the Talisman wearer and he’d cast a glamor so that nobody would see him as an unusual traveller and then slept in the local inn. The magic went on and he’d been woken by a woman singing in the house below. She had a high, clear voice with a hint of laughter in her tones, and she seemed to be moving from room to room as she sang,

“We were married in the winter
When the nights were long and cold,
Then the army came and took him,
For to be a soldier bold,
Now I sleep when light is fading,
And I rise and work each morn,
But fondly I remember,
The nights we danced 'till dawn.

His mother has been grieving
Though I feared that she'd rejoice,
I was never in her favor
and she has a powerful voice.
He told me go and stay with her
I told him that I'll see,
But Hell will be iced over
On the day she lives with me!

I know that if she lived with me
his ma would wear a frown.
She said I was too friendly
with the fellows from the town,
I've heard she has a past herself,
with those she didn't scorn,
and surely she remembers,
The nights she danced 'till dawn!

We were married in the winter,
and now he's been gone a while,
I'm trying to remember,
but I can't recall his smile,
Even his scent is fading
from the clothing that he's worn,
But fondly I remember,
The nights we danced 'till dawn!”

She'd reached the room he was using, by then.

They never did find the talisman-wearer in that Gig – but the demon smiled in his sleep as the dream went on.

Muse, "Sweet" the singing demon.
Fandom, BTVS
Words, 337.

Overture and Beginners, please!

A plume of brilliantly colored smoke is moving through the haze around the streetlights, sometimes seeming to drift against the wind. A flurry of snow blows from a shop awning and the smoke slides into a deep doorway, almost as though it could move with a purpose. As the smoke moves, changes take place around it as a glamor is cast.

Rooms take on a look of cosiness, old-fashioned and comfortable. Clothes change in the closets; some later inventions disappear. The town is becoming pretty – and the women are taking on a kind of Hollywood glow.

There are other changes, too – and most of all, there is music – some of it from an unseen singer.

"Just smoking through the town,
Planning out the Gig,
Guess you never know,
But this one could be big,
Drifting through the town,
There's a birthday soon.
Guess I'll be around,
With the latest tune.

There's too many targets,
Didn't sort things in the past.
Didn't hear the tunes their hearts set free.
When you lose your heart's home
Then the drama can peak fast,
There'll be entertainment here for me!

Just smoking through the town,
thinking what to do,
keeping well in mind,
Gigs are dangerous too.
Drifting through the town,
checking out what's there,
Where's my talisman?
Tell me truth or dare!

Magic always has a price,
It always has its rules,
They should check it out
before it starts,
When the Powers call a gig
We're all the magic's tools,
Dancing through
our own appointed parts,

Once the amulet's found,
their price will be paid,
Sometimes so is mine,
it's how the part is played."

Muse “Sweet” the singing demon,
Fandom, BTVS
Words, 289

I’m not much for names. In some ways they’ve got too much power – labels can have too much power for anyone to cope with. I don’t think I ever met this William Faulkner guy, but I wouldn’t necessarily know. From the sound of it he just might have been a good target for a Gig, ( but then, many humans are. )

(There’s some human blood in my own family. Sometimes that really worries me, especially during the Gigs.)

Muse; “Sweet” the Singing Demon.
Fandom; BTVS
Words, 1010

( OOC. ),

My laptop celebrated Christmas Day by losing most of its functions (including Internet access, for a while.) It will be sent away to be repaired (or euthanised) under extended guarentee on Jan 2nd, and I will be back as soon as I can.

The thing hasn't worked properly for most of this year, so at least I may be around more once it's been fixed.

( to sleep - perchance to dream. )

“Sweet” the Singing Demon,
Fandom, BTVS.
Words, 391

( 259. I don’t understand, ), Words; 243.

( 258, adding and removing words. )

Muse, “Sweet” the Singing Demon.
Fandom, BTVS
Words, Prompt 259; Words 243. Prompt 258, Words 513.

Words are my magic,
which humans forget,
Songs of delight
and desire and regret.
They shall have music
(and they shall have proof,
From the depths of their hearts
That the songs are the truth.)
Truth as they know it
And truth as they sing it,
Words are my magic,
In Gigs I must wing it.

My magic’s beguiling
when first the Gigs starts.
Bringing the songs from
their newly touched hearts,

Nothing that’s specious
should last in the songs,
Nothing untrue
In the rights and the wrongs,
Nothing that’s hollow
and nothing that’s false
Whether they sing to a ballad or waltz.
Nothing that’s spurious
Nothing unsound
As the music swings on
And the deeper truth’s found.

My magic can sting
As the deeper truths rise,
Trapped in their hearts
In a network of lies.

There’s little deceptive
and no room for tact,
With the truth burning out
As we reach the last act.
When emotions are valid
I know what you feel.
And with every hot number,
I’ll make that so real!

“Sweet” the singing demon.
Fandom, BTVS
Words, 165.

OOC ( fun with a thesaurus )

That’s a crazy question. Why would I want to? Fear don’t make for good music. Depression doesn’t either, and that can be bad enough. It’s hard to get a decent tune out of someone who doesn’t feel good enough to sing, but fear can be worse. Did you ever hear a good song about being frightened?

It’s not just that fear can make the customers kind of swing away from all those feelings that get the music rising, there are people who attack what they fear. That can also mean that you start getting songs about the habits of spiders and praying mantises – and let me tell you those ain’t my idea of romance.

If I wanted to scare people I know ways. I was at a great party on Saturday night. Orange and black theme, a pumpkin piñata, singing, dancing – I mean, the kind of thing the humans expected as well as the entertaining little numbers.

It was a costume party, all kisses and canapés and champagne. I was really enjoying it - but it went downhill badly after midnight.

That’s when they'd thought I was going to take off my mask.

Muse, “Sweet” the singing demon.
Fandom, BTVS
Words, 189